


Lay Me Down

by Azazel999 (Azazel)



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Twincest, mention of violence, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel/pseuds/Azazel999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins spend some time in Mexico.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me Down

“Hails from a colorful people my arse!” Murphy complains as a bullet whizzes past his shoulder to rupture the ceramic tile behind him. Next to him Connor just smirks and keeps firing. Despite the tougher than normal reception the twins manage to fell the cartel enforcers without injury. As the last evil man falls with two bullet holes through his head the boys recite The Prayer to complete the ritual. A few minutes and 36 pesos later they stumble from the hacienda to meet the battered yellow cab waiting for them in the blowing dust. Romeo scrambles out of the driver’s door and wrenches open the trunk with a screech of rusted hinges. 

“Man I still can’t believe you guys made me wait out here,” he sulks.

“That’s what a getaway driver does, Rome. Waits in the fuckin’ car,” Connor says, shoving Romeo by the shoulder. “Now let’s make like a tree and get the fuck outta here.” 

***

Connor had never seen water so blue before he came to Mexico. The waters near Boston were steely grey or rainbowed with oil slick. And as for Ireland, well, cold and deep come to mind. But here in Mexico, on the sandy beaches, the water is like glass and it vaguely reminds him of Murphy’s eyes when they were kids. Murphy is slouched in a lounge chair on the other side of the umbrella pole in a dark t-shirt and jeans. He refused to make any concession to the heat or the setting other than leaving his socks and boots in the tiny bungalow they share. Connor, on the other hand, is taking full advantage of the beach atmosphere, sporting nothing but a pair of wildly colored board shorts. He barely registers when Murphy moves until cold condensation splashes on his elbow. 

“’S yur turn,” Murphy slurs. They have been passing a bottle of Don Valente back and forth between them chasing shots of tequila with long pulls of Corona all afternoon. A bucket of ice is half submerged in the sand flanked by their umbrella and a pile of empty bottles. 

“Aye,” Connor agrees as he takes the bottle. The clear liquid tastes faintly earthy and sweet. A quick swig of beer and the taste is all but forgotten. 

“We’re gonna need more beer soon,” Murphy points out. “’N more tequila as well.”

Connor drunkenly chuckles, “Aye.”

Murphy throws a half-hearted punch at Connor and staggers to his feet mumbling, “Guess I’ll be getting’ it then.” He totters off toward the little cottage yanking his shirt over his head as he reaches the steps. Connor feels the air leave his lungs when he sees Murphy pull his shirt off. The tattoos covering the majority of his brother’s back glisten and ripple in the sunlight like they are alive under his skin. The ink shifts with each twitch of muscle over bone, calling to Connor, beckoning him to touch, to taste. All thoughts of liquor evaporate in an instant and Connor is off of his chair plowing through what now seems like acres of sand that separate him from Murphy. 

He finds his twin bent over at the waist, rummaging through the ancient refrigerator for more beer and tequila. Though it is darker in the cabin the tattoos on Murphy’s back still seem to dance. Connor reaches out with only his fingertips, trailing them over each bump and dip of Murphy’s spine. Murphy gasps and twitches, not sure if to arch into or away from the caress. Then Connor’s hand is in his hair and the choice is taken from him as he is yanked back against Connor’s chest. The alcohol and sudden movement make him a little dizzy but he recovers quickly. Connor wraps both arms around his twin’s ribs, pinning Murphy’s arms to his sides. He traces a line from shoulder to throat with his tongue then viciously bites down on the tendon there.

Murphy grates out his brother’s name as his knees buckle. His head falls back on Connor’s shoulder leaving one of his most sensitive areas open to assault. Connor pounces on the opportunity, licking and nibbling on Murphy’s ear making him squirm and pant. Connor can feel Murphy clenching his fists in the denim of his jeans. He runs his left hand down Murphy’s right arm to wrap around his wrist. With a quick pull Murphy is facing him as he backs away toward the cloud of mosquito netting and down bedding. 

Murphy’s eyes are glazed slits but they track every one of Connor’s movements with the precision of a predator on the hunt. When Connor’s free hand slides across his belly to pull at the drawstring holding his shorts up Murphy can’t help but watch as the knot slowly comes undone. With the knot out of the way Connor wastes no time shucking the board shorts. The soft swish of nylon hitting the floor jump-starts Murphy’s brain. In a mirror of Connor’s actions he uses his free hand to unbutton and unzip his jeans, letting them fall to the floor in a pile next to Connor’s shorts. 

Connor crab-crawls onto the bed backward, his eyes never leaving Murphy’s. Murphy quickly scrambles into the space between Connor’s thighs then grinds their hips together. In an instant Connor’s hands are back in his hair pulling until he is close enough to bite Murphy’s lips and lick his teeth. Murphy presses forward crushing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. Rearing back Murphy brings the fingers of his right hand to Connor’s mouth. Connor knows what Murphy wants as it is a time-honored ritual between them. He takes a moment to smile at his brother before parting his lips and grasping Murphy’s wrist just below his palm. One by one he sucks three fingers into his mouth bathing them with his tongue, tasting salt and gun powder. Connor watches Murphy’s face but he feels the muscles in his brother’s stomach jump and his breath hitch.

A quick tug slips Murphy’s fingers from Connor’s mouth but when he tries to pull his hand free to reach behind himself Connor just shakes his head. Alarmingly sober blue eyes lock onto their counterpart and a silent question passes from one mind to the other. Smiling, Connor lays back, dragging his twins hand over his chest and stomach. There is only a split-second’s hesitation when he releases Murphy’s hand before it continues south. Murphy traces light fingertips over Connor’s erection then dips his fingers behind his twin’s sac. It feels like an out of body experience when he slips the first finger inside. He is used to preparing himself or having Connor prepare him but it is a rare enough occurrence for Connor to bottom that Murphy is almost unsure of himself. He keeps his eyes trained on Connor’s face searching for any sign of discomfort or distress but finds none. Connor looks completely at peace, relaxed even. When the second finger joins the first Connor hums and tilts his hips to spread his thighs wider. Connor slides one hand under the pillows while the other skates over his hip to slowly stroke his cock. 

The third finger makes Connor’s toes curl and the muscles in his legs flex, lifting his hips off of the bed. Dragging his hand from under the pillows he pops open the cap of a small bottle and squeezes a slightly viscous liquid into the palm of his other hand. He then closes the bottle and drops it. Reaching up with his dry hand Connor cups the back of Murphy’s skull and pulls him down into a rough kiss. The kiss is broken when Murphy chokes on a gasp. He nearly sobs when Connor’s slick hand slides his foreskin over the head of his cock. This is one more tiny difference between them. Connor is circumcised while Murphy is not. Something about a compromised immune system prevented the procedure. Connor discovered quite early on, too, that Murphy’s foreskin makes his cock head indescribably sensitive. An advantage he has never since hesitated to take. 

Within a few strokes Murphy is pumping his hips into Connor’s hand and making little desperate noises against his mouth. Connor gives one last twist of wrist then releases Murphy. 

“Now, Murph, c’mon,” Connor whispers against Murphy’s lips. Murphy takes a moment to blink his brother back into focus. Then he angles his hips until he finds Connor’s entrance and begins to push inside with a quiet, “Fuck.” 

Murphy leans up on his elbows for better leverage. His arms begin to shake when he feels his hips meet Connor’s. Connor locks his ankles behind Murphy’s back and applies pressure with his heels to get his brother to move. Murphy takes the hint a picks up a slow, deliberate rhythm of shallow strokes. In no time at all both are panting for breath. Connor winds his arms around Murphy’s shoulders, scraping blunt finger nails over his shoulder blades making Murphy’s measured thrusts falter. 

“So that’s how ya want ta play, is it?” Murphy growls narrowing his eyes at his twin. In response Connor’s lips curl in a cocky smirk. “Well alright then,” Murphy returns the smirk and hooks one arm under Connor’s hips, the other under his shoulders then hauls him up to straddle his lap. Connor’s eyes roll and his hands clutch and Murphy’s arms. Murphy leans down to plant a kiss over Connor’s thundering heart. It takes Connor a moment, and Murphy’s stabilizing counter-weight, to establish a rhythm. Balancing on the balls of his feet he bunches the muscles of his thighs to lift his weight then drops back down the length of his brother’s cock causing a chorus of “fuck!” to bounce off of the walls of the cottage. 

Connor’s hands move to tangle in Murphy’s hair and yank his head back so Connor can reach his mouth. Murphy braces his forearms behind Connor’s back to take some of his twin’s weight as he moves. They quickly launch into a punishing pace, pushing and pulling at each other. With each time Connor moves up he smears more precome across Murphy’s stomach. Murphy leans back, placing one of his hands on the bed behind him. Connor freezes for a few seconds then bears all his weight down on his twin’s hips. Murphy feels Connor’s orgasm in his mind before the warm splash of cum hits his chest, setting off his own finish. 

Connor falls back to the bed pulling Murphy with him. Murphy simply curls, gasping for breath, against Connor’s chest. They slowly let their bodies slip apart as Connor smoothes his fingers through Murphy’s wild hair. Murphy tilts his head up until he can rest his chin on Connor’s breast bone and slowly blinks at his brother.

“We still need more beer.”

Connor smacks Murphy on the back of the head but laughs.


End file.
